


The Art of the Gesture

by garrideb



Category: The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Desert Island, Episode: s02e06 The Nightmare of Milky Joe, First Time, M/M, New Year's Eve, Reconciliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 22:26:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9144979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrideb/pseuds/garrideb
Summary: Howard realizes he's made a mistake after he snubs Vince for Milky Joe, so he sets off to patch up their friendship before the break becomes irreversible.  And it's not because he's jealous of Ruby.  No sir, not at all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this two(?) years ago for a kinkmeme prompt(?) somewhere on LiveJournal that I can't find. But hey, it's done now! 
> 
> I've been telling some people that I've been working on a Boosh fic, so I just want to clarify that it's not this one. The one I'm working on is legitimately long, so who knows when that'll get done. Hopefully in 2017!

Howard had slighted Vince many a time over the course of their long friendship, so he'd done his fair share of making it up to Vince, too. Gestures of apology took many forms -- anything from acquiring hundreds of colored pencils to staying at the Goofy Lodge. 

Considering all that, sneaking across an arbitrary line drawn in the sand onto Vince's side of the island in the middle of the night was hardly a strange development. 

The moon was full -- _of course_ \-- and was casting the island in its cool, bright glow. Luckily, Vince's side had all the trees, so Howard crept from shadow to shadow, silent and skilled like the Man of Action he was. 

As he passed Vince's hut he trod too close to a crab, who took objection and pinched Howard's foot. He hissed out a string of curses that made the crab look even more cross, glaring up at him with her stalk eyes before scurrying off. 

Howard glanced worriedly at the hut, half-expecting Vince to come storming out, demanding to know why Howard was on his side of the island, but the night remained quiet, save for the constant hum of insects and the ribbit of frogs. He breathed a sigh of relief. Feeling emboldened, he altered his course and crept to the hut. 

It really was quite nice. Howard wasn't surprised; Vince had a knack for making homey spaces out of any environment, no matter how basic and drab. He remembered how their room at the zoo had transformed after Vince had come along, going from utilitarian to utopian as naturally as as a caterpillar becoming a butterfly. And after the zoo was closed, their new flat had barely had the chance to feel strange before Vince had imbued it with a sense of home. 

But even with his first-hand experience of Vince's talents, the hut was impressive. The walls were sturdy and neatly aligned. Howard nodded in approval as he snuck around a corner, admiring the almost perfect ninety-degree angle. 

The nearest window had a flower box on the outside and woven-grass curtains on the inside. But the night was warm and the curtains were tied back to welcome in the ocean breeze. Moonlight spilled in, too, illuminating the hut as effectively as Vince's mirrorball nightlight would have back in their flat.

He peered in, wondering -- with a lump in his throat -- if he would see Ruby, but Vince was alone. He was curled up on his palm leaf sleeping bag, eyes closed and breathing deeply. His face was tipped towards the window, as if he'd fallen asleep while conversing with the moon. There was a woven-grass blanket covering him from the waist down, but nothing else. His hair curled against his bare shoulders, dark waves crashing onto a pale beach.

Howard swallowed. Ruby was a lucky girl. No, no… Vince was lucky to have Ruby. That was what he meant. 

Well, best not to dawdle. If he was going to apologize with a gesture as well as words -- and as a man of action, Howard never underestimated The Gesture -- then he needed supplies. One supply in particular, which was only available here on Vince's side of the island. 

He found the right palm tree without incident. He'd picked this tree for three reasons: it wasn't very tall; it was far enough away from Vince's hut to climb without waking the other man; and up among the leaves it had flowers instead of coconuts. He'd climbed it last night. A careful cut to a flower stalk had yielded slowly seeping sap, and a hollow bamboo reed was angled just so to collect the sap in a large gourd. By now the gourd was full, and, hopefully, fermenting. 

Howard felt a flush of pride as he carefully carried his prize down the tree. It was a good thing he'd always taken an interest in wilderness survival, and in a variety of wilderness settings, at that! He might not be a pretty young thing like Ruby or her friends, but he had other skills that could make Vince happy. 

Crossing back over to his side of the island felt inexplicably lonely. Milky Joe was spending the holidays with his family, so the Coconut Lodge was empty. Just as well. Howard didn't need his constant criticism or advice as he prepared the palm wine. He wouldn't have minded _some_ company, but not Milky Joe's. 

It was fine, though. He had a plan, and that was all the company a Man of Action needed.

* * *

Howard woke much later than usual. Gone were the days he could engage in shady late-night activities and wake at the crack of dawn, as bright-eyed and busy-tailed as Jack Cooper. There were those who would say that those shady late-night activities also _involved_ Jack Cooper, but those were just rumors. 

Honestly, most of his late nights were with Vince, and not much shadier than a Colobus marathon or a spot of deer impersonation. 

He squinted into the bright sunlight and groaned. A lean-to was a fine shelter on some planets, but on a rotating planet where the sun arched through the sky like a lonely pole-vaulter, a lean-to was sunburn served on a lazy-susan. He'd build something better. Later. After he'd mended things with Vince. 

He took extra time eating, tidying up, getting ready. Finally, hair tamed and clothes sorted out, Howard knelt by his calendar. It was scrawled in the sand, a small white shell marking the date. Howard lifted it off the 30th and placed it squarely on the 31st. 

Milky Joe had insisted the calendar was correct, and the coconut _was_ an intellectual, so Howard believed him. But time felt odd on the island, like maybe he'd spent weeks here or maybe it had been mere hours. It didn't help that the first shell marker he'd used had still —unbeknownst to him — had a restless little creature living inside it. For awhile he'd been convinced he was time-traveling. 

New Year's Eve. Auld Lang Syne. As a writer and a poet, it was Howard's duty to respect the words of Robert Burns -- _Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?_ \-- and honor long-standing friendship, no matter how much of a prick Vince had been lately.

Howard winced at that unbidden, bitter thought. He had to remind himself that Vince had tried offering an olive branch earlier, when he had offered to fix Howard and Milky Joe's hair and outfits. Howard and Milky Joe had rejected him, so now it was Howard's turn to humble himself. Good thing he had known how to make alcohol out of the sap of the palm tree; alcohol made a fine offering, and making it from scratch had to count as a worthy gesture. Howard grabbed the flask of palm wine and ventured off. 

It was late afternoon and the sun was starting to dip, pushing the shadows of the coconut trees out like stripes along the beach.

He heard Vince before he saw him. Even at a distance his bright chatter stood out from the cacophony of bird and insect noises. It stood out but it still fit the milieu; the island had carved out a place of honor for Vince's voice to belong. Howard, on the other hand, sang about isolation, accompanied only by a wooden flute he had to carve himself. No wonder he and Vince talked past each other. They were on different islands. 

Vince's bright green leaf top stood out against the beach. He was sitting on a piece of driftwood, facing the ocean, feet in the surf. He was leaned over, talking towards the tide pools. ”He sings _Cars_ , you know? _Here in my car, I feel safest of all…_ "

Howard crept closer, his steps soundless on the golden sand. Vince was talking to something in the shallow water. It wasn't Ruby; it was a small silvery fish. Vince paused. "Cars? Oh. Well, have you ever hitched a ride on a whale? I know some fish do, latch on like a barnacle. A car is like that." 

The fish gaped in apparent fascination, unless that was its resting fish face. 

"Technically I don't have a license, meaning I can't… er, steer the whale, but me mate Howard lets me sometimes, if we're out of the city… er, reef. You know, less coral to bump into."

Howard decided to interrupt before Vince started equating traffic lights with bioluminescent algae. "Hey there," he said as he approached. 

Vince glanced up. "Alright, Howard." His expression was suddenly very neutral. He'd sounded downright fond before. It figured; he _had_ been talking about Gary Numan. 

There was no other driftwood nearby on which to sit, so Howard stood, feeling much too large. "Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" he asked, mostly to break the awkward silence.

“We’re not friends,” Vince said, not unkindly, just matter-of-fact. “We just met at the bar.”

Howard looked down, half-expecting to see a pub in the shallow water, even though it was unlikely he’d have missed something like that. Then he realized Vince meant the sand bar. Acutely aware of the awkwardness in the air, Howard tried for a tension-easing joke. “Come to this bar often? I hope you don’t drink like a fish.”

Vince looked like he’d just bit into a lemon. The fish swam away. 

“Leaving?” Howard called after it, mildly. “Well, catch you later.” He knew he should feel bad about chasing it off, but he’d wanted Vince’s sole attention, and now he had it. “Can we get out of the sun?” he asked, offering Vince a hand up. “You know how easily I burn.”

Vince regarded Howard’s hand like it was a poisonous snake. No, scratch that; Vince got on with most snakes. Maybe a snake with terrible fashion sense, like one that mixed stripes and polka dots. Or was that in? 

Before Howard could think of a fashion gaffe he was certain of, Vince had taken his hand and pulled himself to his feet. “If you’re gonna be an arse, yeah, let’s go somewhere private.”

Well, that was sort of a victory, right?

Vince lead them to the tree line where they sat in the shade of the big leafy palms. At this distance the waves were a soothing background noise, a percussionist who lived three floors above you rather than one. _Music has charms to sooth a savage breast, to soften rocks, or bend a knotted oak,_ Howard recalled, and wondered if he should have brought his wooden flute. Vince was looking decidedly stone-faced. 

Instead of the flute he had the large gourd tied to his belt. He untied it with a minimum of fumbling and held it out to Vince.

“What’s that?” Vince took it cautiously.

“You wanted us to enjoy ourselves, here on the island, and I insisted on, ah — bringing the tone down. And then I — and Milky Joe — were very rude to you, so I made you this. To apologize.”

Vince’s rocky expression softened. Howard wasn’t sure if it was the apology, the gift, or just curiosity that melted away Vince’s hostility. The trick now was to make it clear that he wanted a truce, and not put his foot in his mouth in the process. 

Vince had managed to pry the makeshift cork out of the gourd, and sniffed at the contents. His eyes widened. “Alcohol?”

Howard nodded. “Palm wine. It’s a common beverage in many tropical regions—“ He was interrupted as Vince took a large swig and immediately started coughing. “It is my first time making it…”

Vince’s eyes were watering but he smiled as he handed the gourd back. “I love it. It’s just stronger than I was expecting.”

It wasn’t supposed to be strong. “Can’t hold your liquor, Little Man?” Howard teased, and took a sip himself. It was strong, but he’d literally just mocked Vince so he manfully swallowed it down without reacting and took a larger swig just to prove he could. Once he got over the initial surprise, it was pretty good; a nice blend of sweet and sour. Vince scooted closer to more easily pass the gourd back and fourth.

He was always hyper-aware of Vince’s body when he violated Howard’s personal bubble, and this time was no different. Acutely aware that he could shift slightly and become Vince’s backrest, Howard held himself still. He’d only just apologized. He didn’t even know where he stood with Vince. “Are you spending New Year’s Eve with Ruby?” He asked, nervous of the answer.

“It’s New Year’s Eve?” Vince gasped, his eyes lighting up. “We have to have a party!” Just as quickly the enthusiasm drained. “Maybe just a small party, though. Ruby and I are… it’s complicated.”

Despite himself, Howard felt hopeful. “Did something happen? You were inseparable there for awhile.”

Vince shrugged, eyes downcast. “We were getting along great. She had a friend she wanted to get involved, you know what I mean? And that was fine by me! I thought it went great, but now I think that maybe I’m a third wheel.”

In the privacy of his own mind, Howard could admit that he wasn’t romantically adventurous, so it took a moment to parse Vince’s relationship woes. “You had a threesome and now you think they prefer each other’s company?”

“Yeah. We went out to dinner and they spent the whole time talking and barely looked at me. And I think they were playing under the table, too, not that I was included.” Vince huffed, still obviously stung. 

Even though Howard disliked the idea of defending Ruby, he disliked seeing Vince hurt even more. “It might not have been personal. Women just get along with women better, just like men get along with men better.”

No longer looking hurt, now Vince just looked baffled. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Sure it is. All my past paramours have preferred girl’s night to date night. It’s just how it is. And that’s fine, because I always come home to you, don’t I? We’re just ourselves when it’s the two of us. Simple. Easy.”

Vince smiled fondly. “Your issues with girlfriends is just a you-thing, I think. But yeah, it is always easiest with you. That might just be a me-an’-you-thing.” He took a sip from the gourd and passed it back.

Howard drank and allowed himself to relax until Vince was leaning against him. He could say without a doubt that this was the happiest he’d felt since arriving on the island. With good-will bubbling up in his chest, he continued to try to fix Vince’s floundering relationship. “So maybe it’s a species thing. They’re both coconuts, you’re a human.” Evan as he said it, it seemed like an odd thing to say, but for the life of him he didn’t know why.

“That’s hardly a difference at all,” Vince scoffed.

Howard nodded slowly. “Right. Sorry.”

Vince tipped his head back to better look at Howard. “What should I do?”

_Break up with her!_ Screamed the voice in his head, but Howard bit down on his tongue. Patching up his friendship with Vince didn’t give him a free pass to monopolize Vince. If he truly felt bad about freezing out his friend, and if he truly wanted to wipe away that stupid line he’d drawn in the sand, it had to be with good intentions. 

“A gesture,” Howard told him. “You fix it with a gesture. Maybe a gift. I could make some more wine, for you to give her.”

“Genius,” Vince grinned. Then he blinked, focusing on Howard intently. “You’d do that for me and Ruby?”

Howard fidgeted under that powerful gaze. “Yes. It’s a new year. Might as well turn over a new leaf,” he joked weakly, poking at the leaf on Vince’s shoulder. 

The joke did the trick of distracting Vince’s intense stare. He was still smiling fondly, but now he was looking at his clothes. “Turn over a new leaf? Hmmm… reversible leaf fashion…”

“Come on, it’s going to be dark soon,” Howard noted. “We should head back to our beach.”

They walked back slowly, finishing the gourd of wine as the sun set. Vince started humming _Cars _, which certainly wasn’t unusual, but when the lyrics finally solidified amid the tipsy murmuring, it seemed he’d altered the song to better fit his fish friend. “ _Here on my whale, I feel safest of all, locked behind the baleen, it’s the only way to live, on whales!_ ”__

__Howard laughed and realized quite abruptly that he was drunk. They both were._ _

__“Do you think it’s midnight yet?” Vince asked as they finally reached their shelters._ _

__“No, the sun has barely been down a minute.”_ _

__Vince shrugged. “We don’t have a clock. How will we know?”_ _

__Howard didn’t answer him. He’d just noticed that the line was still drawn in the sand, and now that he and Vince were friends again, the line made him feel embarrassed and a little nauseated. He didn’t want Vince to see it, which was impossible because Vince was right there. “Why don’t you er, check on your plants. Make sure they weren’t eaten by crabs,” he improvised poorly. Vince frowned in confusion but changed direction away from the line and towards his hut._ _

__Using his foot in a large, awkward sweeping motion, Howard began obliterating the line as best he could. Luckily it wasn’t too long; he was loping along like a wounded gazelle and the wine wasn’t helping._ _

__He heard a happy exclamation and looked up. Vince was trotting to the opposite end of the line, grinning. “Getting rid of this!” he sang, and started working his way towards Howard, erasing it with his foot as well but managing to make the movement seem elegant._ _

__They met near the middle and stopped, Howard because he was afraid of lumbering right into Vince, and Vince because he was watching Howard. His dark hair was messy and his eyes were sparkling. “I’m going to break up with Ruby.”_ _

__Howard’s breath caught. “Oh?”_ _

__“I’d rather be with you.”_ _

__Everything in his heart seemed to rearrange, as if it were a Rubik’s cube finally being solved, or a puzzle piece that had been jammed into the wrong spot shifting into the right one. He loved Vince. He was in love with Vince. It was easy to admit, all of a sudden, knowing that Vince loved him back. Maybe there had been no point in putting the puzzle pieces in the right spots if he’d thought he wouldn’t like the picture, but now he knew the picture was a picture of home._ _

__He wanted to say something profound and romantic, but all his brain could come up with was, “Yes. Good. That’s what I think. Feel. That’s how I feel.”_ _

__Vince rolled his eyes and inched closer. “Think it’s midnight yet?”_ _

__“No..? You only asked a minute ago.”_ _

__Sighing, Vince inched even closer, now very close and looking at Howard’s mouth. “Think it’s midnight yet?” He tried again._ _

__“Oh! Yes. Almost certainly.”_ _

__Vince tasted like the sour-sweet wine, and he smelled like the ocean. His hands went to Howard’s shoulders and settled there, warm and content. Howard had thought there were rules about how good a simple touch could feel: lips to lips, or hands on shoulders, surely he’d experienced the range of sensation those nerves had to offer by now. But his body was breaking those rules with flagrant abandon. He was tingling head to foot and just the act of touching, of holding Vince was making him pant for breath._ _

__He tried to grasp Vince’s back but what seemed like a whole jungle’s worth of leaves got in the way. He tried to slip his hands under them but he only managed to find more foliage. Stymied, he held Vince’s face instead, pulling back just enough to offer, “Happy New Year.”_ _

__Vince laughed breathlessly. “Yeah. Happy New Year.”_ _


End file.
